


Like Breathing

by misbegotten



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9629783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/pseuds/misbegotten
Summary: Robbie gets a shock or three.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dine/gifts).



> This is what happens when I do my annual _Lewis_ rewatch. Can't. Stop. Writing! Set immediately after the end of "The Great and the Good." Dedicated to Dine, because she never stops being the best kind of enabler.

Hathaway is a liar. A shockingly bad one. "I'm not going to stand by and watch you do this to yourself," he'd said. And then took off his jacket and joined in sorting through Cooper's files.

Hathaway is wearing lavender socks. No, not lavender. Shocking purple. Robbie can see them now as Hathaway, knees bent, sorts through another pile of papers. The fabric of his trousers rises and yields the eyesores. 

Hathaway is in love with him. Not a shocking thought at all. One that Robbie can't quite work his head around right now, not when he's got Val's death on his brain. But the revelation is there, waiting for Robbie to embrace it.

What was it that Gargoyle said? He that is not jealous is not in love. Is Hathaway jealous of Val? Is he exorcising that jealousy by helping Robbie now? By helping Robbie get rid of the stuff that belonged to Val? Catholics are good at guilt, amongst other things.

Robbie wonders what it would be like to kiss a bloke. No, not a bloke. Hathaway. James. What would it be like to kiss, be kissed by James? Would he feel repelled? Robbie doesn't think so. Maybe age makes you more tolerant. When he was younger, being snogged by a fella would be grounds for a punch. Or worse. 

Robbie imagines someone pummeling James the way Donnelly tried to beat Ashton. The thought makes him cold. Fiercely angry and utterly cold. He'd kill anyone that tried that.

There's a shock. He'd kill for James, die for James. Would he have died for Morse? Yeah, maybe. If necessary. But for James, it is necessary. Like breathing. Like getting trounced at squash, and paying for pints, and eating takeaway on Robbie's couch with their knees bumping. It's just one more thing he would do with James, for James. He'd rushed into a burning building for James already. Carried James out like a ragdoll, all the while his heart thumping in his chest with the erratic messages of "Please let him be okay" and "I don't know what I'd do without him."

James won't tell Robbie that it's enough, Robbie realises. He'll keep going through Cooper's files until he drops. Because Robbie has practically begged him to.

"Enough," Robbie says.

James rocks back on his heels, looking at Robbie with questions in his eyes. He's prepared to go all night, Robbie knows. 

Robbie stands, put his hand out to James. "Thank you," he says. "But that's enough."

James takes his hand, lets Robbie tug him up off the floor. Is surprised when Robbie keeps pulling, though. Huffs as he lands firm against Robbie, right in his face. 

"Thank you," Robbie says again, close enough to James' mouth to taste the kiss. But it won't come. He's still... what? Too scared? Too hidebound? Too sensible to do something as daft as kiss his sergeant?

"Anytime sir," James says, too close to Robbie but not moving away. He smells of cologne and cigarettes. A scent like a fingerprint. One that lingers in Robbie's car and in his flat, comforting him when James himself is gone.

Purple socks, an indefatigable will to do right by Robbie, and a kissable mouth. That's James.

Bugger sensible. Robbie takes a breath, and kisses.

It's an electric shock. His first kiss with Val had been fumbling and sweet. Kissing James is utterly different. As brilliant as those purple socks. Blinding, surprising.

James pulls back, gangly and nervous. "Sir," he starts. "If you're--"

"Shut up, James," Robbie says. Grips James' hand more tightly and pulls him in again. Kisses him.

It's a proper snog this time, James getting over his initial astonishment and turning a bit hungry. His tongue meets Robbie's, and there's a sensation Robbie could get used to in a hurry. James' tongue on his lips, in his mouth, wandering other places... It barely registers on Robbie that he's gone from not being able to contemplate loving James five minutes before to imagining him in the most intimate ways.

Life always surprises you, don't it?

"Sir," James says again.

"I told you, shut up," Robbie says with a bit of a smile. "Wouldn't want me coming to me senses, would you?"

"Definitely not, sir," James agrees.

"And don't call me sir while you're kissing me," Robbie adds.

"Definitely not." James visibly swallows the "sir". Robbie watches his Adam's apple bob, and leans forward to kiss it, just above the loosened knot of James' tie. "Guh," James manages.

"Is that a good sound, or a bad sound?"

James swallows again. "It depends on where you're going with this."

Robbie lets loose of James' hand, but doesn't step back. "Let's just take things as they come, shall we?" James flushes pink, and Robbie realises what he's said. "I mean," he continues doggedly, "I've got several decades of repression to work through, don't I?"

James' lips quirk into a smile. "Seems like you're doing alright." He leans forward and kisses Robbie again -- three times in as many minutes. The clocks are standing still, as far as Robbie is concerned. There's nothing now but James and him, in this room, learning the shape of each other's mouths.

James fits, Robbie notes. Not like Val fit. A different sort of combination, this. Different but good.

He leans into the kiss. Poor James, the lad doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. So Robbie takes one, puts it on his shoulder. James takes the hint, puts his other hand up and then both hands are moving, along Robbie's shoulders and settling at the back of his neck. Tugging Robbie gently up.

That's another first. Robbie's never kissed anyone taller than him before. It's a night for firsts. But not lasts. If Robbie's sure of anything, it's that.

"Let's go home," he says. Who knows what is to come? More snogging, definitely. Working through years of repression with James' help.

James scoops up his suit jacket, knocks shoulders with Robbie companionably. "Are you okay?" He sounds a bit nervous. Not surprising, that. First Robbie kisses him, now he's inviting him round. Moving at light speed, they are.

"I am more than okay," he reassures James.

*

When Robbie wakes, the first thing he sees is a pair of shocking purple socks balled up on the floor beside the bed. It makes him smile. "Eyesores," he says.

"Hm?" James murmurs, still half asleep. They'd spent what little hours were left in the night snogging, cuddling on Robbie's brand new orthopaedic mattress. He'd never thought to break it in like this. New memories, worth a bit of awkwardness and laughter as they learned to wrap their limbs around one another.

"Your socks," Robbie elaborates. "Bright purple."

"Nothing compared to the shirt I first saw you in," James complains sleepily. "Thought you were a nutter." He flings an arm out to run a hand down Robbie's side. His fingers get caught on Robbie's t-shirt and boxers, but he seems in no hurry to get Robbie out of them. That's a relief. Robbie isn't quite ready for the complete joy of gay sex yet. Though no doubt James will buy him the book. And annotate it.

"When I asked if you were for me, this wasn't what I had in mind," Robbie muses. It's odd to think of them as strangers, now. Odd to imagine that he'd spent decades in Oxford without bumping into James somewhere. What would James have thought of younger Robbie? What would Robbie have thought of the priest in training? Most likely they would have found each other potty. 

"Mmm," James agrees. In a sleep-addled, throaty sound that goes straight to Robbie's groin. "Let's go back to sleep. Hours before we have to be on duty."

There's a thought that ought to trouble Robbie. If Innocent had the slightest clue what had transpired in the night, she'd split them up immediately. "Do you want a new governor?" Robbie asks.

James wakes up at that, blinks at Robbie. "No," he says firmly. He twines his bare legs through Robbie's and inches over on the mattress, until he's flush against Robbie, boxers to boxers. "I _am_ for you."

"Then we'd best keep this on the quiet," Robbie says.

"Did you think I planned to run through the streets shouting it?" James asks, the thought obviously amusing him. He kisses Robbie lightly. "I kissed a boy and I liked it," he adds, apparently quoting something that Robbie doesn't get. But Robbie's used to that.

"Don't want to lose me bagman, do I?" Robbie says. The thought of going forward without James... well, it's enough to make Robbie seriously consider retirement. And what would he do with himself? Set up house with James and cook and clean? Ha!

James kisses him again -- the lad is apparently daft because he can't seem to get enough of Robbie -- and turns over, curling into himself and dragging Robbie's arm around him like a blanket. "Not going to happen. Go to sleep."

It's a good plan. Robbie nuzzles the back of James' neck and tucks his arm under James. The feeling is, shockingly, absolutely perfect.


End file.
